Muddy Shoes
by klockedin
Summary: Rick and Michonne meet at the dog park. This is my first fan- fic. I hope you enjoy! I do not own The Walking Dead or any of the characters therein. AU.
1. Chapter 1

'Thank God Shane isn't here to see this, or I'd have to knock him out to get him to stop laughing,' Rick thought as he scrambled around in search of something, anything to get the soft, pungent, freshly laid dog feces that he'd just stepped in off of his shoe. 'Could swear that sign says to pick up after your dog, but do people listen? Hell no!' he grumbled to himself as he spotted a broken branch laying on the ground by the fence. Rick grabbed the stick and proceeded to scrape out the tread of his hiking boot while silently cursing lazy dog owners. It was early enough in the morning that he and Bubbles had the dog area to themselves. The little, white teacup poodle ran around the park catching up on all the local news that had been left behind by the other resident dogs since last night's update. Rick had always considered himself a dog person, but he wasn't sure something that weighed five pounds could really qualify as a dog. His girlfriend Jessie loved the tiny canine to pieces though; and truth be told, she was actually really sweet.

Tossing aside the branch, he smirked at the pink bows that adorned Bubbles' ears. 'All we need to do now is get your momma to stop doing your nails, stop putting outfits on you, and actually let you be a dog; and you'll be in business.' Bubbles apparently agreed with this mindset, the enticing odor wafting out of a mysterious pile driving her to do an enthusiastic drop and roll which left her fluffy, white coat a distinct brown. 'Well, shit...' Rick sighed, knowing that Jessie would not be prepared to redecorate her all white living room to match the brown tones her furbaby would be leaving behind when they made it back upstairs to her condo. 'I guess my coffee will have to wait until you get a bath.' He had been enjoying the use of Jessie's Frieling french press while he dog sat for her. She'd left a couple of days prior to attend her grandfather's funeral.

Jessie was a nice, pretty girl from a well-to-do family. She and Rick had been dating for the last five months. Unfortunately, not having to work for a living left her with a lot of free time on her hands that she seemed determined to spend on Rick. Between shopping for him (as well as herself), and planning trips to whatever hot locale the 'Real Housewives of Wherever' had just traveled to; she didn't seem to be very driven to do anything else. Rick however, was immersed in his last year of law school and considered himself very driven. He was currently third in his class and once he passed the bar, was anticipating one day opening his own practice. Lately, Jessie had been trying to push their relationship into a more serious place. To Rick, it was becoming more and more obvious that they were on different trajectories. He wasn't looking forward to the unavoidable conversation he would need to have with her when it was time to return her keys.

Michonne didn't know how it was that on her only day off she still happened to be up early as hell, walking a dog that wasn't even hers. While she loved her cousin Sasha dearly, she couldn't understand why Sasha's fiance Abe would think a dog is what the two very busy women needed right now. With Sasha's job as an ICU nurse, and Michonne starting her new job as a pastry chef at one of the hottest restaurants in Atlanta; neither woman had time for a dog. Even one as cute as Buster. The little beagle was a rescue and Abe had arranged for Sasha's brother Noah to surprise her with him at her birthday party the previous week. Noah had also agreed to be the dog's primary caregiver which was supposed to include walking him. The twenty- one year old apparently decided to sleep in that morning and Sasha hadn't made it in until four after working a thirteen hour shift. That left light sleeper Michonne the job of responding to the dog's early morning whines to go out.

Michonne had only been at her new job for a little over a month and although she was exhausted, the work was extremely rewarding. She'd had a few nagging reservations over the years about her career choice, but taking this job was the step up that confirmed for her that food was her life. She was learning so much and running the small pastry crew was giving her a good foundation for when she decided to open her own bakery. The feeling of dough in her hands, the smell of melting butter, watching through the window of an oven as a souffle achieved the perfect shade of gold, all elicited a response in her spirit that surpassed any other feeling. She had found her calling.

Michonne felt a sudden burst of happiness as she took in the beauty of the morning. It was shaping up to be a lovely autumn day after the previous night's rainstorm. The air was clean and crisp. The scent of Georgia pine wafted on the cool breeze and there wasn't a single cloud in the pale blue sky. She had always enjoyed interacting with nature. This particular morning's interaction happened to include wrapping her plastic covered hand around the warm pile left behind by a relieved Buster. After depositing the recycled grocery bag into a nearby receptacle, she stretched her arms above her head and basked in the feel of the warm sun on her face. The sight of Buster attempting to stalk a wary squirrel made her chuckle to herself. But her laughter came to an abrupt end when Buster, without warning, took off after the squirrel, snatching the leash right out of her hand. Breaking into a sprint, she yelled for him to stop, calling his name in vain. The suddenly hearing impaired canine continued his pursuit, darting through trees and around bushes. The distance between them grew as Michonne tried her best to keep him in sight.

Rick thought about how to initiate his impending conversation with Jessie. His best friend Shane always believed in ending relationships in public places because he would then be able to 'make a fast getaway'. But he didn't know if that would work in Jessie's case considering her penchant for drama. The last thing he needed was to have their break up filmed and posted on social media. More important than where though, the bigger question in his mind was when. While he just wanted to get it over with, he was hesitant to add to her troubles given that she had just buried her grandfather. The loud sounds of someone yelling interrupted his reverie. Rick turned to the source of the noise, spotting a figure running swiftly toward him.

In his mind's eye it was as though everything slowed down. He was able to take his time scanning the beautiful female form approaching him. His eyes moved over her long, toned legs encased in tight denim; up her slim frame to the thin, form- fitting red hoodie which covered her lush breasts. The dappled sunlight played over her, revealing the gold tones of her ebony skin. He found himself tilting his head in wonderment at whether or not she real. He was entranced.

As she got closer, her calls broke Rick out of his stupor. Finally catching sight of the beagle running full tilt in his direction, he quickly darted out of the park and waved his arms; stopping Buster in his tracks. As he squatted down to grab the dog's leash, Michonne caught up to the pair with a huff of relief.

"Thank you so much! I really wasn't looking forward to chasing him all around the complex."

"Oh, no problem. Anytime, uh...? Rick asked, coming to his feet.

"Michonne," she replied. "And that's Buster, when he's not pretending to be Quicksilver. In fact, I should let him run off some more of that energy," she said, taking Buster's leash from Rick's hand. She led Buster to the open gate and released the clip to his collar. Shutting the gate behind her, she turned back toward Rick with a questioning look.

"Oh, I- I'm Rick," he stuttered, caught off guard by her bright smile. He took note of her full lips, deep brown eyes and long lashes.

"Hi Rick. Nice to meet you. I see you got caught in a land mine," she observed, pointing at his grungy shoe.

"What? Oh, yeah. Gotta love those responsible dog owners," he griped.

"Tell me about it."

They stood outside of the gate, watching as Buster and Bubbles circled one another, trying to assess each other's posterior. Having found the other to be acceptable, the dogs took off running across the grass; barking loudly, taking tremendous delight just in being alive."Hey, you were moving pretty fast there. You almost had him," Rick remarked, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "Oh, I doubt I could have in these shoes," she replied. "Maybe if I had my sneakers." Rick looked down at her shoes, a hint of a grimace flashing across his face. "What?" she asked, looking down at her feet.

"What, what?"

"What's that face? You got something to say about my shoes?"

"Nooo...I mean...CROCS are a fine shoe, I guess..."

"Excuse you!" Michonne sputtered bemusedly, mildly offended at his critique of her wardrobe.

"I guess I just don't get it ," he smiled apologetically.

"What's there to get?! It's a perfectly serviceable shoe," she squinted at him, the corners of her mouth curling up as she noticed just how attractive he was. He wore slim- fitting jeans over strong thighs with a cream colored henley stretched tight across his broad shoulders.

"Well- ," he pursed his full lips in mock confusion, tanned forearms flexing as he gestured at her shoes.

" they're ugly as sin, and what's with the name CROCS anyway?"

"Well, what about you and your hiking boots?" Michonne challenged.

"What about them?"

"C'mon, how much hiking do you actually do?"

"I'll have you know, these are more of an all- terrain type of shoe," Rick countered.

"All- terrain? What are you, a Land Rover in human form? Monday you're in the city, Wednesday in the desert, Friday a mountaintop? Is that how it is?"

"Actually," he chuckled, looking down at his shoes, "since it's Tuesday, I should be wearing my cowboy boots."

"Oh, are you a cowboy?"

"It's one of my alter egos. Why? Do you like to ride?"

"What?"

"Umm...What about you?" he quickly amended. "What do you do when you're not chasing down stampeding beasts?"

"I cook."

"Do you?"

"Yes I do. I'm the pastry chef at Nourris Moi."

"Really? That's impressive," he nodded, squinting at her.

"Have you been?" Michonne asked.

"No, but I've heard a lot about it. A friend of mine is always trying to get me to go with her."

"A friend, huh?" Michonne repeated, with a raised brow. "Well, you're missing out. You should go."

"Yeah, maybe...seriously though, you're a pastry chef?" he questioned in slight disbelief. "How are you able to do that job and not weigh three hundred pounds?"

Michonne laughed, "Why? Do you have a sweet tooth?"

"I have a little thing for chocolate..."

"Hmm...it's called discipline."

"Uh, yeah...don't have a lot of that..." He chewed at his bottom lip as he stared intently at her. Michonne cleared her throat, feeling flushed under his scrutiny. She inhaled and took a step back, holding her palms out at her sides.

"So am I good? Does the rest of my outfit pass inspection? Should I switch out my hoodie for something else? Cause I can, if need be?"

"No, you're good," Rick replied, scanning her body. "Everything else is working. Unless you just _want_ to play black Barbie? I can buy you a couple of outfits, dress you up if you like...?" he boldly suggested.

"Oh really?! Black Barbie, huh?" Michonne cocked her hip, grinning at his audacity.

"Yeah, just let me know."

"Well, what about your friend?"

"My friend? Oh, Jessie?"

"Yeah, Jessie."

"Well, I don't know if she'll want to play, but I can ask her," he said with a mischievous grin.

"You're a mess," she chided as they shared a laugh at his ridiculousness.

They stood there silently appraising one another. The electric charge between them caused Rick to suck in a deep breath. He wanted to ask for her number, but considering that he was there walking his girlfriend's dog, thought doing so would be in poor taste. He probably shouldn't have been flirting with her as much as he had been, but he couldn't help himself. There was something about her. She glowed. And it wasn't just her gorgeous skin.

Michonne made her way toward the gate to retrieve Buster, deciding he'd had enough playtime and so had she. Although she was enjoying the flirty banter she'd shared with Rick, it was getting late and there was a lot she needed to do on her solo day off. She wondered if she'd see him again. She was surprised by how much she wanted to. Rick followed her into the dog park, watching her as she called for Buster. The dog ran over, trailed by a happy, panting Bubbles. Michonne's brows rose in surprise as she smirked knowingly, "Funny, I wouldn't have figured you for the poodle type." Bubbles sat back on her haunches and scratched at her ear, releasing a spray of dirt and brown flecks. "She definitely appears to have a zest for life, though."

"Yeah. She found a mud puddle and decided to go a little crazy," Rick explained. Bubbles padded over to Michonne and reared up, begging to be petted. As Michonne leaned over to greet her, she caught a whiff of something decidedly unpleasant.

"I hate to tell you this, but that's not mud."

"Wait..what?" Rick replied, feeling a sense of dread settle in the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah. I hope Jessie has some good dog shampoo."

"I don't know if she does, she usually just drops her off at the pet spa!" Rick sputtered.

"Well, you could just use people shampoo."

"Yeah, but how the hell do I get her back upstairs?" Rick groaned in dismay.

"Oh, come on. She weighs like five pounds, right?" giving him a side- eye.

"Uh, would you want to carry five pounds of shit in your bare hands?" he exclaimed. Michonne chortled in agreement as she dug in her pocket for another bag. "Well, she's small enough, so just wrap her in this," she suggested. "I've still got to catch her though," Rick realized, watching Bubbles frolic around a tree, having the time of her life. "Yeah, this should be fun." He turned, catching sight of Michonne and Buster heading toward the exit. "Hey! So you're just gonna leave me?" "Again, five pounds. I think you can handle it," Michonne smiled over her shoulder at him. "I don't know," he smirked. "Don't let her size fool you. She can be a wily one!" He strolled after her, gazing at her bottom as she bent to reattach Buster's leash.

"Well, I hope the rest of your day isn't as shitty as your morning," Michonne teased, lifting the latch on the gate.

"Really Michonne."

"I know, I'm sorry!" she laughed as he shook his head at her.

"Please tell me you're better at cooking than you are at comedy."

"I am. I swear," she assured him with a big grin.

"I don't know if I'm willing to take your word on that. I might need to see for myself," he tilted his head at her with a hint of a smile, blue eyes twinkling in the sun.

"Maybe one day, you will."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everybody! I think I've cleared all the writing cobwebs out of my brain, so this one didn't take as long as the first chapter and 3 is half done. I'm so excited! _*Except where noted, the players in this story are all in their late-twenties (ish)._**

 **Chapter 2**

Rick somehow managed to get a very stinky Bubbles back upstairs to Jessie's condo. After depositing Bubbles in the bathtub of Jessie's en- suite, he browsed her extensive collection of hair care products; curious as to whether any of the many different formulations were specific for use in the removal of fecal matter from dog fur. By the second washing, he'd gone through over half a bottle of something called Oribe Signature Shampoo and decided that Bubbles' fur, while soft, smelled like spicy shit. Making his way to the kitchen in search of a household cleanser that wouldn't harm a dog, he hit paydirt in the cabinet under the sink. 'Hey, they used it to clean off ducks in that commercial,' he said to himself, grabbing the bottle of Dawn dishwashing detergent. Once she passed the smell test, he opted to forego blow drying in favor of a rough toweling off; which she loved.

Heading back to the kitchen, he joyously began his coffee brewing ritual. After filling the kettle with filtered water, he set it on the stove to heat. He was in the process of loading beans into the coffee grinder, when he was interrupted by his ringing phone. Grabbing it from where it sat on the counter, he issued a low growl; smiling when he saw the name of the caller.

'Mornin' Herschel. How are you doin' old man?' he asked, glad to hear from his longtime friend. 'Better than you young-uns. I swear, you have one itty, bitty infarction and everyone tries to treat you like you got a foot in the grave.' 'I hear ya,' Rick replied, 'and it wasn't even nuthin' a lil' ol' triple bypass couldn't fix.' Herschel and Rick's father had been best friends and fellow deputies with the King's County Sheriff's Department. After the sudden death of Richard Sr. when Rick was fourteen, Herschel had stepped up, becoming somewhat of a mentor to the boy. He was still in the process of recovering from a massive heart attack the year before.

'Are you still in Atlanta?'

'Yep. I'll be hittin' the road directly, if I could ever get this dang coffee made.'

'Good, then I'm glad I caught ya. Had a surprise visitor last night.'

'Oh, yeah? Who?' Rick wondered.

'Maggie showed up here around ten. Seems her and Gareth had themselves a big 'ol blowout.' Maggie was Herschel's oldest daughter. She and her husband, Gareth had been married for two years and were known to have a difficult relationship.

'She says they're done,' Herschel sighed. 'I don't know... Anywho, she'll be here to look after things while the missus and me head over to that auction, so you can save yourself a trip. I know you probably got a whole lotta studyin' to get to.'

'Now Herschel, you know coming down to the farm on Tuesdays is like taking a much needed vacation day for me. Can't study all the dang time. What'd they fight about this time, anyway?'

'I don't know and I don't wanna know. But I overheard her tellin' Beth something about catching him eatin' something he shouldna.'

'Oh, Lord...'

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Shortly after ending his conversation with Herschel, Rick was about to pour boiling water into the french press when he heard the door to Jessie's condo open. A man in a chauffeur's suit and cap staggered in, struggling under the weight of several matching pieces of Louis Vuitton luggage. Rick's eyebrows shot up in surprise at the sight of a black- clad Jessie following closely behind him. She sashayed in on four inch stilettos, cell phone in hand.

'Yes, Daddy...I know and I'm sorry, but I just couldn't stay there a minute longer. If I had to listen to Aunt Alberta have one more break- down, I swear, I was just gonna lose my mind!...I will, Daddy...love you..kisses.' She finally noticed Rick standing in the kitchen doorway and rushed over to grab him in a choking embrace, 'Oh, Rick! It is sooo good to finally be home! I'm exhausted!' Rick frowned, glancing over at the man in the foyer, who was doing his best to juggle the cumbersome load.

'Ah, Jessie...' he prodded, nodding at the poor fellow. 'Oh, yes! Driver, you can just leave those right there,' she said, waving her hand in a general direction. She then walked to the living room where she collapsed onto the sofa and proceeded to remove her hat and veil. She smoothed a manicured hand over her blonde hair which was styled in a sleek chignon at the base of her neck. Upon checking her makeup in the mirror of a bejeweled compact, she placed the item back in her designer clutch; sinking into the cushion with a sigh.

Rick, after seeing the chauffeur out, grabbed Jessie's many bags and carried them into her bedroom. Entering the living room, he asked, 'How was your trip, Jessie?' taking a seat next to her. 'Did everything go okay?'

'I suppose. Well, the trip to Dallas was lovely and all, but I had such an ordeal coming back.'

'Why? What happened?'

'Well first of all, Uncle Phillip- you remember my granddaddy's brother, which I guess makes him my great- uncle; anyway, he sent his plane to pick me up and it was supposed to fly me back, but they had to go out this week for a business thing. And when I called, his pilot told me the plane was unavailable. So I had to fly _commercial_.'

'Weren't you scheduled to come back on Friday?' Rick asked.

'Well, yes. But I just _had_ to get out of there,' Jessie whined. Leaning over to remove her shoes, she settled into Rick's side, tucking her feet under her. 'Being there was just too depressing. I really hate being sad.' She wrapped her arms around Rick's middle. 'I thought some champagne would cheer me up, but the annoying flight attendant said they didn't offer it. I wish you could have gone with me. Things always go so much smoother when traveling with a man. _And_ you could have met Daddy.'

'Yeah, uh...how is your father doing?'

'Fine, I guess. He drowned himself in work. Which meant that I had to play the gracious host to all these long lost family members. You would think being the only grandchild would be more fun,' she scowled. 'My nerves are shot.'

Jessie took a deep breath and came to her feet, smoothing out the front of her black sheath dress. 'I am so worn out, I decided I need to go to that Palm Beach Spa Lisa's always talking about before I head back for the reading of the will. I've got time.'

'Lisa? ...Wait- you're leaving again? When?'

'Vanderpump, silly,' she stated, distractedly. 'I'm leaving tonight.' Jessie swung her head around, searching the room. 'Where's my snookums? Bubbles!' she called.

Rick ran his palm down his face, frustrated, 'Jessie, I really need to talk to you.'

'There's my snookums!' she cried, as Bubbles ran in with a treat hanging out of her mouth. Jessie snatched her up in her arms, delivering multiple kisses to the scruffy pooch. 'I won't be gone for long. No more than a week, give or take...'. She continued with the affectionate display until she noticed the object in Bubbles' mouth. 'What do you have, there? Did daddy Rick get you a new toy? Oooh, it smells!' Taking the offensive item from Bubbles, she scowled, 'Rick, what is this?'

'It's a bully stick.'

'A what?'

'Dried bull penis.'

'Excuse me? Uh, no...'. Using two fingers, she gingerly handed it to Rick before heading to her bedroom with Bubbles. ' Do you wanna come with me, snooky- wooky? You wanna take a trip to the spa? Where are your bows?

'I think I'm gonna take a bath. Were you still heading out to Herschel's today?' she called over her shoulder.

'Yeah, it's getting late,' Rick lied, 'I better get going!' Deciding to beat a hasty retreat, he made his way to the front door, glancing back longingly at the abandoned french press.

'Rick, what's all this in the bathtub?'

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

 **Author's Note- Having never used Oribe Signature Shampoo, I cannot testify as to its ability to remove fecal odors. Nevertheless, I am certain that it is a wonderful product with a lovely scent.**


	3. Chapter 3

**The next chapter is a challenging one for me, so it may take awhile. In the meantime...**

 **Chapter 3**

Michonne and Buster went back upstairs to Sasha's condo where she fed him and then proceeded to make herself a quick breakfast. Once she'd eaten, she decided to tackle the mountain of laundry that she'd been putting off. She was putting a load of wet clothes into the dryer when Sasha came into the kitchen yawning, in search of coffee.

"What are you doing up?" Michonne asked, surprised to see her cousin awake.

"Abe and I were supposed to have a Skype date, but the transmission is poor," she yawned again while pouring herself a cup. Sasha's fiance was serving in the military and was currently stationed overseas. They were planning to be married as soon as he returned from his eighteen month deployment. "I'm gonna try again in thirty minutes. What are you getting into today?"

"Laundry and errands."

"Wanna catch a movie tonight? I don't have to be in until eleven."

"Can't. Gotta get up early tomorrow."

"You always have to get up early. All you do is work. You need a break," Sasha frowned at Michonne over the rim of her cup as she took a sip.

"Gotta pay my dues if I'm gonna have my own bakery," Michonne informed her as she leaned over to start the machine.

"You know, you don't have anything to prove to them."

"It's not about them. This is for me."

"I hope so." For as long as Michonne could remember, she had been drawn to all things creative. Winning a sorority bake- off her sophomore year of college had led to her dropping out and enrolling in culinary school. Her parents did not agree with her decision to become a chef. They were both physicians and had assumed she would be following in their footsteps.

"Plus, the more successful I am, the faster I can get my own place and get out of your hair."

"Girl, please. You being here is not even a problem. Unlike some other people..." she glared at her brother Noah as he made his way to the refrigerator in search of something to drink. "What time did you get home last night?" "I don't know. Late." He cracked the top on a bottle of water, guzzling half of it in one swig. "My boy was having a cookout at his mom's. I chawed on some _good_ ass burgers, yo! Ended up with the _fierce_ meat sweats."

"Dude, nobody cares about your protein induced thermogenesis."

"Huh?"

"I swear! Will you read a book?" Sasha said, shaking her head. She brought her cup over to the kitchen table as Noah turned back to the fridge to peruse its contents. "I know one thing. Imma boomerang your ass back to Momma's if you don't start buying some groceries." "I will as soon as I get some money," he said. "I filled out an application at Michonne's restaurant, but they haven't called me back yet."

"What position did you apply for?" Michonne asked.

"Bar back."

"I'll talk to Rosita. She does the hiring for bar staff," Michonne replied.

"Yeah...cause working there would be the bizness, yo. They got some _fine_ ass women comin' up in there, fo sho!" Sasha and Michonne exchanged skeptical looks.

"Please," Sasha said with a raised brow. "You're a twenty- one year old college student with a car that barely runs. Exactly what would a woman that can afford to eat at Nourris Moi want with you?"

"Girl, you don't know?!"

"No. I don't know."

"Psshh...first of all, I'm a great conversationalist, fo sho!"

"Yeah. I can tell."

"I'm funny."

"Intentionally?"

"I'm sexy." Both women blinked at him in silence.

"Okay...I'm smart."

"I think we already went over that," Sasha smirked at him.

"And don't even get me started on how I be puttin' it down."

"-Oh my..."

"Please leave."

XOXOXO

"Speaking of dating, how's it going on that front? Have you heard from Mike lately?" Sasha asked while adding more sugar to her cup.

"Uh...no. His mom sent me a Christmas card last year, but it's been a while since I spoke to him." Mike and Michonne had dated all through high school. Their parents were good friends and everyone had expected the pair to one day marry.

"I never understood what happened between you two. He seemed like an alright guy."

"Nothing really. He was nice enough," she shrugged. "I grew up and we just grew apart. Our parents had their plans for us and he was all in, but I needed to do my own thing. I mean, the guy just about had a fit when I started my Locs. They all did."

"Pssh... I wish a man _would_ tell me how to wear my hair," Sasha cocked her brow. "As it is, I can hardly keep Abe out of it."

"He just loves touching you, period."

"I know, right? Definitely one of the good ones. You should have seen the clowns I dated before I met him." She stood up to top off her half- empty cup, turning back toward Michonne with an inquisitive look. "Don't you think it's time to get back out there?" Sasha was not what anyone would consider shy about voicing her opinion. Michonne's older cousin, although intrusive at times, had always just wanted the best for her. She was caring and supportive; and after having fallen in love with Abe, was eager to see Michonne settle down with someone.

"I'm too busy. Besides most of these men in Atlanta are actually boys in disguise," Michonne replied. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to having a relationship; it's just my time is so limited that I'm not willing to waste what little I have on dudes that aren't worth it."

"Can't argue with that..."

"But, don't worry. My radar is on and working. If I get a ping, I'll pursue it."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Rick opened the front door of his rental home, balancing in one hand the large coffee and danish he'd picked up on the way. "What are you doing here? I thought you were babysitting?" Shane asked from his spot on the couch. An assortment of empty soda cans, wrappers, and take- out containers littered the coffee table in front of him. Rick's roommate and childhood friend was a firefighter. His work schedule required him to work for forty- eight hours straight. This resulted in his ninety- six hours off being spent in 'mega- relaxation' mode.

"Jessie came home early," Rick said as he stepped over to the couch. The stale air made him scrunch up his nose. "Dang, man! Open a window! When was the last time you showered?"

"Screw you, man. I'm home. What are you, my momma?" he replied, scratching his belly. His dingy tank top had tomato sauce stains and his once white socks were now a shade that edged into Vantablack territory. Setting his coffee on the table, Rick flopped down onto a nearby recliner; his attention drawn to the large, wall- mounted, flat screen television where a recently dvr'd game was playing.

"Did you give Jessie the Heisman?" Shane asked, sticking his arm out and cocking his leg in the famous pose.

"Not yet."

"Man, whatchu waitin' for? Like, how'd you wind up with that girl, anyway?"

"I was at that alumni event and she was getting harassed by some drunk asshole," Rick explained. "I sent him on his way, we had a drink; and next thing you know, we were dating."

"I know she's rich as hell; but damn dude, talk about high maintenance!" Shane shook his head, taking a swig out of a random soda can.

"Wasn't like that at first, she- "

"I bet I know. She played all kinds of sweet and accommodating, didn't mind coming to you so you could study and shit..."

"It wasn't just that...I mean, she was engaging and we had fun..." Rick pondered just how easy things had seemed at the start of his relationship with Jessie.

"I think she was just so different from ball bustin', complainin' ass Lori, she had you fooled. Now _that_ chick was a piece of work. Her cranky, hungry ass probably just needed a sandwich, skinny ass bit- "

"Hey, now!" Rick cautioned. Shane had never gotten along with the last woman Rick dated, Lori. The lanky brunette was the walking embodiment of surly, finding fault in nearly everything Rick did. They were not together long. "I'm just sayin', you go to extremes. It's either total bitch, or whiny and clingy," Shane relented.

"Oh really, Dr. Phil?"

"Yeah. You need someone in the middle. A woman that doesn't _need_ you, she _wants_ you. But first you gotta scrape off that barnacle."

"I guess I could just be like you and send her a text."

" _Now_ you're gettin' it!"

XOXOXO

They had been sitting in silence, watching the game when Rick noticed a certain expensive looking black package among the assorted table litter. "Did you eat my chocolate?"

"Maybe. Shit was good as hell, too."

"What the f-..?! Shane! My aunt sent me that for my birthday!"

"Dang man, calm down. You got four more in the cabinet. I'll replace it, stingy ass."

"You know that chocolate cost like, over thirty dollars a bar?"

"No shit? It was good, but for real? Thirty dollars? I don't know about that. I'll buy you a Hershey or something, but I don't know about paying thirty dollars for some damn chocolate..."

Rick glared at him as he contemplated potential hiding places for his remaining supply.

"Speaking of which, whatever happened to Kesha?" Shane asked.

"Kesha?"

"You know, man. That girl you liked back in junior high."

"Oh, Kesha! Last I heard, she was married to some engineer. I think they moved to North Carolina somewhere, living that Huxtable life."

"Yeah...good 'ol milkshake..."

"Huh?"

"C'mon, man. You remember. We used to call her milkshake 'cause she was _thiiiick_!"

"- _thiiiick_!"

 **xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo**

 **Author's Note**

 **Ah! The joy of youth! It's all about finding out who you are and figuring out the type of person you want to be with. I guess you gotta kiss a few frogs before you find your prince (or in this case princess). Wait. Did I just call Jessie a frog?**

 **Will Rick and Michonne run into each other soon? Possibly...**

 **For those of you not familiar, thick is a good thing. It means curvy. For a reference, google image search Ki Toy Johnson. [I had one of those early bloomers in my junior high class, how about you?]**

 **Final Note- The over $30 chocolate I was referencing was Sambirano Madagascar by Pierre Marcolini. Never had it, but I'm all for trying it if someone else is buying!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, now I'm really spent! Y'all amaze me!**

 **Chapter 4**

Michonne's day had been going pretty smoothly when her boss, head chef Ezekiel Fontaine called her into his office. "Michonne my lovely, I have a most exciting enterprise I would like to discuss with you." He gestured for her to shut the door. Although he was an extremely talented chef, his public persona was full of pretension. In private, he was warm and generous, and they had bonded very quickly. Being fully aware of his penchant for all things showy, she internally braced herself . "At times we are called upon to exhibit our creations for a private audience," he stated.

"So we're catering a party."

"Sssh. Never refer to it as such. It is a rare occurrence, but when ventures such as this present themselves, we are most handsomely compensated. Although it is quite odd we have only been contracted for a feature appetizer and dessert. She also asked about the budget, a detail our more posh patrons do not usually concern themselves with. But, you never know; finances can vacillate at times. At the very least, it will be an opportunity to foster goodwill toward future endeavors.

"So my dear," he stood and strode around the corner of his desk, "I have been pondering our offering for this little soiree and I have decided we should strive for the utmost in theatrics."

"You do like to bring the drama. Just so long as we don't try to go the Alinea route."

"Girl, what? And have all these people thinkin' black folks can't afford plates."

XOXOXOXOXO

Rick had had a long week, culminating in an extremely long day. He was exhausted yet proud, as it meant that he was one big step closer to fulfilling his dream. He and his peer group had put in some major work on their pro bono committee requirement. They'd then had a meeting with an alumnus and their faculty advisor. The alumnus turned out to be from King's County, which meant that Rick had to spend some time catching up on hometown news. When he was finally done with his day, he decided to meet up with Shane at their favorite watering hole. He entered and found Shane whispering in the ear of a petite Latina. "Man, I'm telling you, I need to come here on Mondays more often!" Shane proclaimed as the young lady sauntered off, blowing him a kiss.

"Whatever. Go get me a beer so we can play some pool."

"Funny, I don't remember marrying your ugly ass."

"Uh...chocolate bar?"

"Shit, man. Still?"

"Yep. And none of that 'on tap special' shit. Dark lager. In the bottle, please."

XOXOXOXOXO

Michonne had just gotten home from work and was contemplating a hot bath when Sasha came bursting through the front door. "Good, you're home! Let's go have a drink!"

"What?! Are you serious?"

"C'mon. We both just got off work. Let's just go and have one drink. I know a place. Nice and low- key."

"It's almost ten. Strollin' up in some bar at this hour- I'm not trying to hook up!"

"Well neither am I, woman! But, it's been a rough day; and I need one, and so do you. So change your clothes, throw on some lipgloss, and let's go!"

"I smell like food."

"You smell like pastries. That's never bad. Could be worse. You could work in sanitation."

XOXOXOXOXO

Rick and Shane had just started a third game of pool, when Shane caught sight of two new women entering the tavern. "I mean it. This is definitely my new Monday night spot!" Rick looked up to see Michonne and another woman approach the bar.

"Well, isn't that interesting..."

"What? You know them?"

"We've met." Rick laid down his cue and made his way over to the pair; reaching them just as Michonne spotted him, a smile breaking out over her face.

"Well, hello Michonne."

"Hello Rick."

"You're looking well. Like the shoes."

"Thank you. I'm glad you approve." She was wearing a pair of black, leather booties with a stacked heel that were a definite improvement over the cringeworthy CROCS. But it was her velvet leggings that had him biting his lip. The plush, clingy fabric displayed every inch of her perfect body. When she turned back to the bar to accept a drink from her friend, her ass left him speechless. He looked over at Shane standing beside him, confirming that the gluteal masterpiece before them had also not escaped his notice. Shane looked back at him, "Damn, son!" he silently mouthed.

Sasha stepped over to Michonne's side and introductions were exchanged, "What geographical areas did you visit today?" Michonne asked with a teasing glint in her eyes.

"I stuck to Atlanta today."

"So the hiking boots didn't see any action. That's too bad," Michonne replied. The foursome retreated to the back section of the bar. It was determined that Rick and Michonne would engage in a game of darts as Rick decided to opt out of playing pool with Michonne. "Scared?" she wondered aloud. "I'm actually pretty good at billiards," he responded.

"Oh, pool shark huh?"

"It's another one of my alter egos."

XOXOXO

"Hey girl!" Shane called out as he hung up the rack. Sasha turned to him with a raised brow.

"Uh...Sasha, you wanna play a game of pool or what?" he corrected.

"Sure, why not. It's been a while since I handed out a good spanking," she replied.

"Well, lookit' here! We got us a _playa_!" He gave her a visual once over, noting that she too was gifted when it came to physical attributes. Her tight, faded jeans hugged her curvy hips and a tan, off the shoulder sweater draped softly over her full breasts.

"Do you enjoy dishing out spankings?"

"Yeah, I've found it's the best way to get little boys to behave."

XOXOXO

"So how's work? Come up with any new delectable creations?"

"Actually, I specialize in delectable."

"I'm sure you do."

The black cherry lipgloss Michonne was wearing had Rick hypnotized. It was all he could do not to stare at her mouth. Not that looking into her eyes was any easier. And he could swear she smelled like sugar. The combination caused him to be so distracted, he'd twice neglected to even hit the dart board. "How long have you been a chef?" he asked. "Almost six years," she replied. "How did you know that's what you wanted to do?"

"E Z Bake Oven."

"Excuse me?"

"I had one as a kid. Made my first cake and thought it was crap. I bugged my mother for a real cake recipe; but when I tried to bake it with that lightbulb, that didn't exactly work out either."

"Sounds like she should have just let you have at it in the kitchen."

"She eventually did. Anyway, fast forward twenty years and here I am. Real cakes. Real ovens."

"You're serious about your cake, huh?"

"Damn right, I am."

XOXOXO

The first match between Sasha and Shane proceeded rather quickly, with Sasha prevailing as the winner.

"That's what I'm talking about! And here I was, worried that I might be a little rusty. Are you gonna be okay? Is your tushie sore?"

"Alright _Miss Sasha,_ Imma let you have that one. But I believe in sharing the love so you might want to get ready for _your_ spankin'."

XOXOXO

"How's Jessie?"

"I wouldn't know. I haven't seen her."

"Oh? My condolences."

"Not quite. She's just been out of town."

"Future condolences?"

"It ran its course. These things happen," he shrugged.

"You don't seem too broken up about it."

"Does it make me an asshole if I say I'm more inconvenienced than anything?"

"Kinda," she laughed.

XOXOXO

Shane made brisk work of their second game, having grown slightly irked by Sasha's antagonizing trash talk. The speed with which he was able to defeat her, left Sasha suspicious of her initial win.

"I know you're not taking it easy on me 'cause I'm a female!"

"Who, me? I would never do that! I have too much respect for you as an opponent."

XOXOXO

"So...this future break up you're so distraught over, is this a common occurrence?"

"Well, I'm not married yet, sooo...I guess. I mean, I date."

"What's she like? Don't tell me. Pretty?"

"Yes..."

"Blonde?"

Rick cocked his brow at her, "This time around..."

"Let me guess. You just don't seem to have a lot in common."

"How'd you know?"

"It's a go to excuse when a guy isn't sure what he wants in a woman."

"Interesting. I don't see any rings on your finger."

"Oh, I _know_ what I want in a man."

XOXOXO

"So what _do_ you want in a man?"

"That's classified."

"You like to make things hard, don't you?"

"Do I?" They laughed in unison at her impishness.

"I think you do."

"No. I just don't believe in making things too easy. Makes men lazy."

"So you want a man to chase you."

"Not chase, necessarily. People should just be willing to work for what they want. It's good to work for what you want. You enjoy it more when you get it."

"Hmm..."

XOXOXO

"I tell you what. How about winner of this next game gets total braggin' rights?"

"Fine. Let's do it." They set up the table and Shane broke, having won the last game. Rick and Michonne, aware they were doing more talking than playing; gave up and came over to watch. Shane and Sasha traded shots until only the eight ball remained. Shane's long cut-shot failed to drop, bouncing between the pocket points instead, before popping back out. Sasha successfully nailed her bank shot and was victorious. Being good sports, the two players approached each other to shake hands and offer congratulations.

"I hope I didn't hurt you too bad," Sasha joked.

"I admit, I am a little sore. You could always rub it and make it better."

"I'm sure there are a couple of women here that are up to date on their vaccines, who would be more than happy to handle that for you."

Rick smiled to himself as he watched the two women head back to the bar, shaking his head at his friend's lack of reserve. "Man...you're too much. Have you no shame?"

"What? So I let her win. So what? She's happy!"

"It's not that. Why drag it out?"

"You know why, man. The more shots they get to make, the more chances you get to watch 'em bend over the table."

 **XOXOXO**

Rick, Michonne , and Sasha were chatting at the bar when a rowdy group of young men entered. The four were obviously college students according to their matching UGA sweatshirts. They were also obviously intoxicated. Not surprisingly, Sasha's brother Noah was one of the four.

"Sis! What up?!"

"Hush, boy! I'm trying to pretend I don't know you."

"That's cold, Sasha. You trying to deny me like Judas! I'm telling Momma."

"That was Peter, fool!" she looked around in embarrassment. "Are you drunk?"

"Actually, no. But they are. I'm the designated driver. You didn't hear anything about a pub crawl here tonight, did you?"

"On a Monday? I doubt it." A blonde kid that could barely stand, slung his arm around Noah's shoulder, "Dude, I'm tellin' you! It's tonight! Like, six bars total...with like, girls...and everything..."

"Don't they usually have those closer to campus?" Michonne asked Noah. The bartender, who was keeping a watchful eye on the students, piped up, "You might be thinking of the other one. And the crawl was Labor Day weekend."

"Oh snap. This dumbass," said Noah.

"You're the one driving. How is he the dumbass?" Sasha teased. An Asian kid wearing a hat that read, 'Hi! I'm Glenn', stepped over to Sasha. "You're lookin' very, very pretty tonight."

"Boy, if you don't get your funky, beer breath ass away from me-!"

An undersized red- headed kid looked over at Rick and Michonne, nodding his head. "Hey, bro. S'up?" he asked in a surprisingly deep voice.

"Nothing," Rick replied. "S'up wichu. You alright?"

"Yeah...Is that you?" the kid asked, indicating Michonne.

"Excuse me?"

"What?" Michonne exclaimed.

"Just sayin', man...yo, she fine and whatnot..."

"Oh, my God..."

XOXOXO

The blonde kid, who was precariously perched on a bar stool; suddenly stood straight up and swallowed. Those in his immediate vicinity had no time to react as his clammy skin grew paler and he heaved; spewing a plume of foul- smelling vomit all over the bar. "Oh Hell, no!" Rick, Michonne, Sasha, Noah, and the bartender collectively cried, jumping clear of the mess. The bartender ordered the crew to leave, "The three of you! Get your friend and get out! Now!"

Michonne and Sasha decided to call it a night and with Rick as an escort, exited with the group of boys. Shane, having successfully bagged and tagged a paramour for the evening, was nowhere to be found. Rick turned to Michonne as Sasha helped her brother get his intoxicated friends loaded into his car.

"Can I have your number?" he asked.

"Why do you need my number?"

"Sooo... I can call you?"

Michonne reached in her purse to retrieve her cell phone. "Why don't you give me your number and I'll call you." Rick reached over to take her phone and entered his information. Looking up at her, he said, "Call me."

"I will."

"No. Right now."

"What?"

"You heard me. Please?" he smiled at her, dipping his head down.

XOXOXO

Sasha, after having admonished her brother on the rules of the road, backed away from his car with a watchful eye. Unfortunately, Noah's attempt to leave was thwarted by outside forces when his unreliable vehicle refused to start. A collective groan was heard from within the car as everyone threw open their doors and stumbled out. Rick and Michonne stepped over to the group while Noah popped the hood.

"Is it the battery?" Sasha asked.

"No. The lights are still working," he replied, grabbing a flashlight from the glove box. He exited the vehicle and lifted the hood, peering down at the motor.

"Do you know what you're looking at?" Sasha asked.

"A non-working engine," he replied.

"Funny."

Rick stepped over to the vehicle, "Need any help?" he offered.

"Definitely."

After having Sasha re-enter the car and turn the key several times, he suggested that a bad starter might be to blame.

"Yeah, that's my guess. Which means you're not going anywhere until it's replaced," he said after tapping on it with a wrench they'd found in the trunk.

"Shit. I guess I'll call Uncle Tyreese to come tow it."

"You got money to actually pay him?" Sasha asked, her left eyebrow cocked.

"No."

"Then we're not getting him out of bed at this time of night. We can call him in the morning."

"I can't leave my ride here all night!"

"I'm sure your luxury automobile will be just fine," she replied. Noah's crew was milling about a short distance away. The regurgitator, having been revived by the chilly night air, attempted to redeem himself, "No worries, dude! I can fix it!" The drunken frat boy grabbed the wrench from where it lay on the ground and wildly swung it at the engine. Missing by a wide margin, he instead landed the blow on the front of the car, right on top of Rick's hand.

"Fuck!" Rick cursed, grabbing two of his middle fingers.

Chaos ensued as Michonne and Sasha came to Rick's aid while Noah and the rest of his friends snatched the wrench from the boy's grasp and tossed him into the back seat.

"Here, let me see. Can you wiggle them?" Sasha asked, gently holding up Rick's left hand.

"Yeah, a little," he demonstrated.

"I don't think they're broken, but you should probably have them x-ray'd."

"Nah. They'll be fine. I've had a broken finger before. This isn't even close, just hurts like a bitch." Noah approached him, his face full of regret. "Dude, I'm sorry about that. He's an idiot most of the time."

"Birds of a feather?" Sasha chimed in.

"How are they gonna get home?" Michonne wondered.

"I guess I can take them," Sasha suggested, "but there's no need for you to come. You must be tired; you've been up since four."

"I'll call a cab."

"I can drop you off," Rick quickly spoke up.

"You don't have to do that."

"Nonsense," Sasha agreed, "It's Monday night. You'll be stuck waiting here for who knows how long otherwise. Let him take you."

"It's not a problem."

"Okay," Michonne conceded, "well... thanks."

"Good. It's settled," Sasha said with a big grin.

XOXOXO

Before Rick could leave with Michonne, Sasha made sure to get his phone number; as well as the year, make, and model of his pick up. She also took photos of him, his driver's license, and his license plate. He was too astonished at her foresight to be annoyed. Upon arrival at Michonne's building, he insisted on walking her to the door, maintaining that it was a requirement of all southern gentlemen. Failing to remember his injury, he reached for the lobby door and pulled it open with a hiss.

"Hey, you know what? Why don't you come upstairs and I'll get you some ice for that hand," Michonne urged.

"Oh no, I'm alright."

"No, c'mon. I insist. You were injured helping my cousin and his idiot friends. It's the least I can do."

 **XOXOXO**

"So, how'd it go last night?"

"What do you mean?" Michonne was sitting at the kitchen island, checking her e-mail on her tablet. "Don't give me that! You ain't slick, woman! What happened when _Rick_ brought you home?" Sasha demanded.

"Nothing happened."

"Oh. 'Cause homeboy is _fine_ as hell. Oooh girl, those eyes! And them lips! Ummm...did y'all kiss?"

"No Sasha. He has a girlfriend."

"Damn. That sucks."

XOXOXO

Once they entered the condo, Michonne led Rick into the kitchen where she directed him to have a seat on one of the stools that lined the marble topped island. It was a somewhat modern kitchen with stainless steel appliances; however, the warm walnut cabinets and colorful accents gave it a homey feel. Michonne washed her hands in the sink and grabbed a sandwich baggie from one of the drawers. Filling it with ice, she brought it over to him to apply to his hand. The low lighting made for an intimate setting; and he looked around, trying to picture her in the space.

"So this is you in your element."

"Actually, since it Sasha's condo and I live with her, it's her element. The kitchen always belongs to the woman of the house."

"So you don't cook here?"

"Not too much. It's fine though. Sasha's a good cook and I enjoy the break." Even though it wasn't her space, something about his presence in it had her unsettled. The ceiling spotlights were hitting him in a way that left him half illuminated and half in shadow. The faint scent of his cologne wafted over to her and she could detect his sparkling blue eyes watching her.

"What's that?" he asked, pointing at a clear, plastic container sitting on the counter.

"It's called Felicite. It's one of our desserts. Sasha has a sweet tooth like you, so every once in a while I bring her something. Would you like a bite?"

"Won't she get mad?"

"She never finishes it. Too many calories."

"Did you make it?"

"Yes."

"Then yes. I'd love a bite."

She grabbed a plate from the cabinet, a fork from the drawer, and popped open the container. Cutting off a quarter of the cake, she placed it on the plate and set it before him. She tried to hand him the fork but he held up his injured hand with a slight pout.

"Do you need me to feed it to you?"

"Please."

She tilted her head to the side, pursed her lips, and squinted at him suspiciously.

"I'm incapacitated," he defended, mildly amused. He watched while she stepped over to him, cut off a piece with the side of the fork and brought it to his lips.

"Oh my God. That's so good."

"Do you like that?"

"Very much."

"Would you like some more?"

"Yes.."

XOXOXO

His eyes closed in pleasure as he enjoyed the last bite of the rich, sweet, cocoa dessert. He opened them to the sight of her swiping some of the residual chocolate off the plate and placing it into her mouth. She swiped again and he grabbed her wrist. Staring deeply into her eyes, he gently sucked the chocolate from her finger.

The heat of his mouth mirrored the heat of his body. A fact she was made aware of when she realized how close she was to him. Feeding him the confection had been bad enough. He'd kept his gaze on her the entire time, alternating between staring in her eyes and flicking down to her lips. What he was doing now was sheer torture. The gentle pressure he was exerting made her imagine him using his lips on other parts of her body. The slickness of his tongue sliding along her finger left her slightly breathless. When he reached the tip of her finger, he opened his mouth and quickly descended on the digit, slowly repeating the act. She let out a faint moan.

XOXOXO

"We did share some of your dessert, though."

"My what? Oh, hell no! Where is it?" Sasha scanned the kitchen in search of her treat.

"Sitting there on the counter. You should eat it before it dries out."

"Or before my greedy- ass, always hungry, vacuum cleaner brother gets ahold of it." She grabbed a fork from the drawer and dove in, offering a bite to Michonne.

"No, thanks."

"A girlfriend, huh? That's really too bad," she pondered the loss of a potential mate for Michonne.

"He says they're breaking up, but I'm not holding my breath."

"I know that's right."

"Yeah, she lives here too."

"Where? In these condos?!"

"Yep. In the ritzy section, probably."

"Ew, too messy!"

"And I don't do messy. He needs to clean that shit up. I did give him my number, though."

"Oh, really?" Sasha gave Michonne a look of suspicious disbelief.

"What? He's cute," Michonne defended herself.

"Mm hmm."

 **XOXOXOXO**

 ***Author's Note- The dessert course at Alinea (Chicago restaurant) featured a deconstructed confection laid out on a tablecloth, sans plates. [Courtesy Youtube]**


	5. Chapter 5

**AAAANNDDDD...We're back! Sorry about the long delay in updating this story. Between aging parent issues and personal health issues, creativity has been at a standstill. Ah well... we all have our crosses, right? 2018 is here and we just have to breathe, pray, and be thankful; for someone, somewhere has it much worse. Guaranteed. Thanks to all who PM'd and to all who are still reading. Enjoy. :)**

 **Chapter 5**

 **Rick/** _I had a good time last night._

 **Michonne/** _So did I._

 **R/** _If you need a taster for any new recipes, let me know. I eagerly volunteer._

 **M/** _I'll keep you in mind._

 **R/** _Seriously. I'm available to you anytime._

 **M/** _I see you meant it when you said you had a thing for chocolate._

 **R/** _It's one of my favorite flavors._

 **XOXOXO**

Michonne grabbed her towel off of the nearby stool as she stepped from the bathtub. She looked down as her foot came into contact with a soggy green tennis ball. Turning toward the once closed bathroom door, she made eye contact with a bored looking Buster laying across the doorway. "You're killing me, Buster," she sighed. "We were outside for forty- five minutes. Aren't you tired?" An unexpected plumbing problem at the restaurant had resulted in a three day mini- vacation that Michonne had been more than happy to take advantage of. She had thoroughly enjoyed spending the day catching up on some much needed 'me time', making sure to include the woeful pooch in her plans. After throwing on her robe, she headed to the kitchen where she heated up a plate of Sasha's delicious home made lasagna. Even though she wasn't tired, she decided to finish off the day by catching up on some bedtime reading. She perused the stack of books on her nightstand, all of which had bookmarks peeking out from between the pages. Her schedule had been so hectic that it had been months since she had actually been able to finish an entire book. Usually by the time she resumed reading, the pertaining subject matter no longer held her interest, so she would end up starting on something new. After making her choice, she got comfortable within the pile of pillows on her bed. Aware of her now captive state, Buster proceeded to insure she was equipped with the key element necessary to complete her evening. Bounding up onto her bed, he dropped the tennis ball in her lap. "Really, dog?" she remarked, her lip curling into a bemused smile. The irresistible look on his cute face combined with a fiercely wagging tail caused her to shake her head as she tossed the still soggy ball out of her bedroom and down the hall. As he gleefully chased after the ball, her cellphone started to ring.

"Hello?"

"Hey Michonne."

"Hey Rick. How are you?"

"I'm good. Am I calling at a bad time? I know you probably have to get up early."

"No," she replied as she leaned over to open the bottom drawer of her nightstand. Glancing down at a waiting Buster, she replaced the tennis ball with one of the many chew toys that she'd begun to accumulate. She smiled at how the beagle chose to join her, snuggling up on the foot of her bed to enjoy his treat. "Actually, I don't have to be in until ten tomorrow. We've had some plumbing issues, so the restaurant's been closed the last couple of days. We're opening back up on Saturday."

"Oh. Well, it's good that you were able to get a few extra days off. What did you do today?"

"Let's see... I went to the salon and indulged in some girly stuff. You know...mani, pedi, other services."

"What color?""

"Excuse me?"

"You said pedicure, right? What color did you paint your toes?"

"Um, dark teal."

"Sounds like a nice fall color."

"It's actually really pretty. I'm very pleased."

"Good. What other services?"

"What?"

"You mentioned other services. Like what?"

"I'd rather not say. You know, you're very nosy."

"I was just curious about how you spent your day. It sounds really relaxing. I had to run around like a chicken so I'm trying to live vicariously through you. After your spa day, did you visit a museum, have lunch, what?"

She laughed at his presumption,"I'll have you know, I have a late lunch with my parents scheduled for _tomorrow_. Today, I went shopping; and then came home and took a bath."

"What did you buy?"

"Nothing. I didn't see anything I liked."

"What were you shopping for?"

"Interestingly enough, shoes."

"Aaah...that _is_ interesting. What kind of shoes?"

"I thought I might try on some stilettos."

"Hmm...stilettos... Pumps? Slingbacks?"

"Open- toe."

"Leather?"

"Suede."

"Color?"

"Nude."

"Mmm... so, no luck?"

"I found some, but they didn't have my size."

"That's too bad..."he murmured.

"So... it's not just chocolate, is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean women's shoes."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Okay Rick."

XOXOXO

"If I had a daughter, I just don't see how I'm supposed to teach her that she's completely equal to men in all areas when the biology just doesn't support that."

"Okay, obviously there are physical differences. I mean, most women have no problem acknowledging that."

"I don't know. I've heard some feminists dispute it."

"Well then they're not too bright. Biology is what it is. Men are physically stronger than women and to suggest otherwise would leave your daughter operating at a serious disadvantage. Now, there _are_ some men that are good, -"

"-most men."

"Most men. But when I was a freshman in college, I went to a couple of parties and shit got really crazy!"

"Of course it did. Guys at that age are totally driven by hormones. But knowing this, shouldn't a woman have some responsibility as well? I'm not suggesting we excuse out of control male behavior. Not at all. But if she's truly empowered, she can take some ownership, right?"

"What do you mean, exactly?"

"Like being aware of her surroundings. I see so many women out at all hours of the day, just jogging with their headphones on, not even paying attention."

"We have this neighbor that will sometimes walk her dog really late at night. She wears her work clothes. Skirt and high heels. You can hear her coming from a mile away. And, she's usually on the phone."

"I don't want my daughter setting herself up to be a victim. I want her to learn self- defense. I think I'll have her take Taekwondo or something. I need to remember what Sasha did the other night. That was hardcore."

"Yeah. You have to be tactical. My uncle, Sasha's dad, was in the military. He taught both of us self- defense. And my mom would tell me about how back in the day, when she and her girlfriends went out partying their motto was- 'We came together, we leave together.' "

XOXOXO

"She could do it, if she wanted."

"But she has that photo. Both photos, actually. A picture is worth a thousand words. And Rita Ora looks like she _knows_ she's about to be on the menu."

"She's a powerful woman whom the media loves. And who middle America loves."

"But, how could she _no_ t have known? You just said it Rick, she's a powerful woman. Courtney Love was warning chicks back in '05. C'mon! She knew! They all did."

"Well, I think she'll get a pass."

"Maybe. But, should she?"

XOXOXO

"Male pattern baldness. Plugs or shave?"

"Shave, duh. Bony ass or muffin top?"

"Muffin top. Chest hair or waxed?"

"Chest hair. Makeup or no makeup?"

"Does that include lip gloss?"

"Yep."

"Dammit! Uh...no makeup. Shit!"

"Your turn."

"Toilet paper roll- facing in or facing out?"

"Is that even a question? Only freaks keep their rolls facing in."

"I take offense to that."

"Sorry. Truth hurts."

"Whatever."

"East coast hip- hop or west coast rap?"

"West coast rap."

"Rick. You live on the east coast!"

"Okay. This needs to be tabled for another time 'cause it's obviously gonna be a whole separate conversation."

"Grrr..."

"Don't get mad. Pajamas or sweats?"

"Neither..."

"See, now you're just being mean..."

"Pass. Beach or mountains?"

"Depends. Bro trip or romantic getaway?"

"Romantic getaway."

"Win- win. It's bikini versus snowed- in, so..."

"It's good that you can be so flexible."

"I try to be accommodating. Carpet or hardwood?"

"Lame. Hardwood. Mustang or Ferrari?"

"Equally lame. Two totally different pieces of machinery occupying completely different spaces when it comes to performance. That's like trying to compare NASCAR to Formula One."

"Oh my God! Pass!"

"Cake or pie?"

"Pie. Top or bottom?"

"What?"

"Bunk beds. Top or bottom?"

"Uh...what?"

"Never mind. Just messing with you. "

XOXOXO

"I just find it hard to believe you haven't seen the original _Terminator_."

"I can't believe you haven't seen _Hostel_."

"After _Saw_ , I was done. No more torture porn for me. That shit gets in your brain. No thanks. You're

deflecting."

"It just sounded so corny. _'I'll be back.'_ I guess I just never got around to it. My father has the world's biggest DVD collection. Maybe I'll grab it one of these days."

"I'll bring the popcorn."

"Bring enough for all three of us. Or does Jessie not eat popcorn?"

"Aaah... that was good."

"Wasn't it?"

"Yeah... Jessie's been _'tah-mi-na-ted.'"_

"What the..."

"Sorry. But, yeah...that's done."

"Are you okay? Do you need a cookie?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why? Did you bake some?"

"No Rick. Anyway... favorite drama?"

" _Requiem for a Dream_."

"What?! Damn, talk about torture porn."

"Yeah, it's pretty dark. But Marlon Wayans was really good. Dude can act. I was surprised."

"Okay, last one. Favorite Black film?"

"I'm embarrassed to say. What's yours?"

" _Set it Off_."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"What do you mean?"

"Black women love that movie."

"Of course we do. They were badass gangstas!"

"You don't find it just a little bit of a stretch?"

"What are you trying to say, Rick? Black women can rob banks!"

"I'll give you the first time. Maybe the second. But a spree?! The feds would check the tapes, look for people connected to the bank, and have their asses locked the hell up!"

"It's a movie, Rick. It's called 'suspension of disbelief'. What was yours?"

" _Boomerang_."

"What?!"

"Yeah. My friends and I thought Eddie Murphy was the smoothest dude on the planet. And the women in that movie?! Oh my God! Lela, Halle, Robin...mmmhmm...Even Grace Jones. She scared us, but she was beautiful!"

"That explains a lot."

"What does it explain? I'm a Georgia boy. Born and bred. I don't need Hollywood to teach me about beauty, Michonne. So about this movie marathon you're hosting..."

"What about it?"

"Since it's taking place at your home, does it still count as a date?"

"I don't know. I'll have to check the rulebook. It's been awhile."

"Just to be sure, we should probably go to dinner first."

"We should?"

"Yes, we should. Would you go to dinner with me?"

"Okay."

 **XOXOXOXOXO**

 **It's funny how when you try to just add _one little_ detail to what's supposed to be a brief tale, you end up down a rabbit hole and the story takes on a life of its own. Oh well, the creative tap flow how it flow and the story go how it go! Thanks so much for reading! As Noah would say, this fandom is the ' _bizness_ '! ;)  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Yeah, sooo...real life has been kicking my butt this year, but there seems to be light at the end of the tunnel. The 500 mile relocating of my mother is finally complete so now I just pray that she's able to adapt to her new surroundings and get to where she can start to enjoy her golden years. (Something she hadn't really been doing.) My heartfelt thanks go out to any and all who are still reading and a special shout- out must be given to _Grimes1970._ I truly appreciate how you _oh so subtly_ cracked a whip on my behind which definitely helped to remind me to keep on living MY life. As the only child of a diva (said with love, I promise!), it's very easy to lose myself. Winks, hugs, and kisses must also be given to _Nwfanmega_ , _Chezza3009_ , and especially you _member00_ (start writing already, dammit!;)).  
**

 **The next chapter is almost done so I'm crossing my fingers that I can build some momentum with regards to posting. I've actually been working on both of these chapters for the last 6 months but unfortunately, stress and humor just don't seem to mix well for me. And the news that we're soon to lose Andy Lincoln certainly hasn't helped. Oh well, thank God for Richonne fanfiction. For me, its definitely been an oasis of escapism that I can always count on. As a writer, and especially as a fan, I love you guys so much. Many, many thanks!**

Jerkchickenz/ This is for you. Hope it lives up! _  
_

Triniads/ I personally like it when Rick is slightly more alpha (smooth). Although since he's in his 20s in this story, it's more like 'alpha- in- training'.

Courtgirl26/ H _e_ DOES know a lot about women's shoes/ feet, doesn't he? ;D

atm0000/ There's probably more rabbit hole to come. Trust me!

Additional thanks to: Firefly-class, RickysMichy, dejede, deeu13, RBGzMom, Enjoi, OtakuuA, Fortylove, mtownrichonner, GlowySweetFab, tremendouswitch, Lavender73, flacagonzalez, JujusPetals, each and every guest reviewer, and lbnl, (love u, sis!)

 **XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

 **Chapter 6**

 **Rick** / _How long does it take to advance into the inner circle?_

 **Michonne** / _Inner circle?_

 **R** / _You know, like Sasha. Where someone (me) gets gifted with surprise desserts?_

 **M** / _Oh, there's no telling. Could take a while. You have to be really good._

 **R** / _So the first order of business would be to set a clear definition of what it means to be good..._

 **XOXOXOXOXO**

"The problem with that particular stance is that judges never want to be the ones to set precedent."

"That's only an issue if you're talking re- writing the law, which isn't what's required here."

"No, but it entails strict interpretation of the constitution," Rick countered.

"Which shouldn't be a problem considering that's the job of a judge. It's what they're there for!" his classmate argued.

"You're such a die- hard constitutionalist, Harley. You know darn well that politics always plays a part in a judge's rulings."

"And it so shouldn't! That document exists for a reason. Its purpose is to protect the rights of every American citizen!"

"Can't say I disagree with you, but here in the real world constitutional abuse runs rampant." Rick rubbed his hand over the back of his head in exhaustion, worn out from yet another long day in the life of a law student. The last few members of his peer group were finally packing up to leave after an impromptu meet- up at his house ran late. He headed into the kitchen to grab a water out of the fridge. Shane stood in the doorway, silently eyeballing Rick's female classmate.

"She's hot. She in your class?" he asked.

"She's _first_ in my class," Rick informed him.

"No shit? Seems kinda wild for you lawyer types. Especially with that dark rainbow hair." Shane squinted at the subtle array of shades visible throughout the woman's medium length dark brown hair.

"Yeah, I didn't even know about that," Rick glanced back at her. "She usually wears it up, so it's not really noticeable."

"What's her name?"

"Harleen. Why?"

"That's a weird name. I wonder if she has any tattoos."

"Why do you care anyw- ? Oh, no! C'mon, man. I gotta work with her!" Rick hissed under his breath.

"Hey, I can't help it if the ladies like me."

"I must have missed something."

"With some chicks, occasionally, it takes a minute. But eventually, I grow on 'em."

"Yeah, like kudzu."

"Don't get me wrong. There _are_ some who straight up don't like me. Like 'Salted Caramel' the other night."

"You mean Sasha?"

"Yeah, her. But the ones who hang around? They like me. They may not know it yet, but they do."

"You are a terrible person," Rick shook his head.

"C'mon man. Don't say that. You know I have no problem accepting the word no. I just really love it when they go from 'Shane!' to 'Shane...'," he moaned.

"Just awful..."

 **XOXOXO**

"I like your hair."

"Uh, thanks."

Shane leaned against the counter watching as Harley dumped the remains of her coffee cup in the sink.

"Yeah. It reminds me of a beetle." He peered down at her, taking a sip from his beer bottle.

"My hair reminds you of a beetle?"

"Well, it's got that prism effect just like one of those Japanese beetles."

"Okay..."

"Yeah, they're always so pretty and colorful. As opposed to say...fireflies, which are only pretty at night when they light up."

"Uh huh."

"Did you know that fireflies _are_ beetles and that the females don't actually fly?" Shane observed as he stepped towards her.

"Wow. I did not know that," she deadpanned.

"They do however, use bioluminescence to attract mates or prey."

"Is that right?"

"Yeah. I wonder...if you were a firefly, which would I be? Mate or prey?"

"Well... maybe instead of fireflies we're a couple of praying mantises. That would make you both mate _and_ prey."

 **XOXOXO**

Rick huffed in frustration at the sound of the ringing doorbell. Opening the front door, he stumbled back in surprise as Jessie flew into his arms. "Jessie! You're back."

"I'm back! I missed you!" she exclaimed.

"Yeah...Wow! Did you do something to..." his voice trailed off as he stared at her face.

"Yeah! I got a little work done. They call it 'freshening'. It's for women under thirty."

"Uh..." he was at a complete loss for words. Whatever treatments she had been subjected to had left her with a waxy and shiny countenance, turning her former natural beauty into that of a mannequin.

"I know, I look surprised. But it's supposed to settle in a few days. What do you think of the lips?"

"They're..nice? Why did you...?"

"Well, you know it's never too soon to combat the signs of aging. The earlier you start, the more natural it looks over time." Parroting her consultant's sales pitch, she recited, " 'You'll develop a look that stays consistent through the years.' "

"But if the look you end up with now at twenty- five coincides with the look of a fifty year old woman, how is anyone supposed to know that you're not a fifty year old woman?"

"It just looks that way now. It will soften in a couple of weeks. You'll see."

"Yeah, about that...we should talk." He escorted her into the living room and directed her to the sofa. "Have a seat," he said, joining her. "Um...can I get you anything? Did you want something to drink?"

"No, there's only one thing I want," she purred, attempting to climb into his lap.

"Hey! No! Uh-" Rick sputtered, jumping to his feet.

"What's wrong, Daddy Rick? Didn't you miss me?" Jessie asked, looking up at him with a blank expression as her frozen facial muscles failed to emit the desired frown.

"See, the thing is...Jessie..ah, I don't think we should see each other anymore."

"What?" she uttered, dumbfounded.

"I know it's not what you were expecting, but you and me," he gestured between the two of them. "It's just not gonna work out." Jessie stared at him as her flushed face started to turn pinker.

"I mean, I've got school and you've got..." Trying to think of ways to temper the blow, he blurted out, "I don't think we want the same things."

"But Rick, how can you say that?"

"Jessie, look...you're a nice girl and you deserve to be with someone who...," he sighed as he ran out of things to say. "I don't want to waste your time."

"You don't want to waste my time? What have we been doing the last five months?!" she angrily questioned. "I don't understand. When we first met, I said I wasn't interested in casually dating and you agreed. Now you're saying we don't want the same things. Then what _do_ you want?"

Rick cocked his brow, shaking his head, "Not this."

 **XOXOXO**

Rick blew out a sigh of relief as he shut the door. He really hadn't expected Jessie to get as upset as she had. Although they'd had differing opinions about the state of their relationship, they'd been dating for months, not years. Not that that seemed to matter to Jessie. He had gone back and forth with her for the better part of an hour attempting to explain the countless ways in which their relationship was not progressing. For her part, Jessie had employed a myriad of tactics to get him to reconsider. From crying to stripping, it wasn't until he'd finally had enough and threatened to physically remove her that she realized he was done. Cursing him at the top of her lungs, she stomped out through the open front door.

He thought back to Michonne's comment regarding him not knowing what he wanted in a mate. He'd assumed that a nice, attractive woman with whom he had a degree of chemistry would be enough of a start to a good relationship. But the truth was that sustaining a relationship, and especially a marriage, required a great deal more. He was beginning to realize how proactive he would need to be to achieve that particular goal.

Rick headed to his bedroom, ready to finally call an end to this day, when he suddenly heard the roar of a large, revving engine followed by the distinct squeal of tires. He ran back to the front door, throwing it open just in time to see Jessie's 2017 Range Rover Supercharged ram into the passenger side of his modest Chevy pick- up. After impacting his vehicle so hard it was pushed sideways up into the small patch of lawn by a good six feet, she reversed and took off down the street in a plume of smoke.

"Asshole!"

Rick went around to the side of his truck to assess the damage. His mouth hung open in a daze as Shane ran out of the front door, shirtless, "The hell was that?!"

"Jessie."

"Man, what have I told you about public places?" Shane exclaimed. "Breakin' up with chicks in our home," he muttered. "What if she decided to burn the house down?!"

"I don't think she's _that_ crazy."

Shane cast a sidelong glance at Rick's damaged vehicle. "Yeah...okay.." They stood there, both silently amazed at this dramatic irony.

"Damn, Rick. _You_ made a chick mad enough to ram your truck." Shane turned to him, nodding his head. "You know what? I'm proud of you."

"Shut up."

 **XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

 **A/N Just to clarify, the current timeline is as follows: Chpt. 5 text message exchange, Chpt. 6 text message exchange, Chpt. 6 events, _then_ Chpt. 5 events. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Sooo...full disclosure, I may have made a _slight_ detour with this chapter; but I assure you, my intentions were honorable. As always, thank you for reading and reviewing. Let the PM's begin!**

 **XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

 **Chapter 7**

 **Rick/** _I've had about eight cups of coffee today 'cause someone kept me up half the night._

 **Michonne/** _Sounds like you have some stamina issues. Shame to see that in someone so young._

 **R/** _Yet another 'conversation' that's gonna have to be tabled for some other time._

XOXOXO

Michonne smiled to herself, feeling her temperature rise as she read Rick's flirty response. His skill at managing to be both subtle _and_ brazen always amazed her. She noted the time before replacing her phone back in her purse, curious as to what was taking her parents so long.

"Michonne! We're so sorry we're late!" Michonne looked up at the sound of her mother's voice. Melanie Williams strode into the restaurant on a gust of cool air, looking more like a diminutive fashion model than the physician she was. Her dark blue pencil jeans, cream cashmere turtleneck and matching leather jacket were perfectly offset by a large aubergine leather tote. Though she stood at only five foot- three, her presence had always made her seem taller.

"Hi Mom. Where's Dad?" she wondered aloud, catching a whiff of a metallic odor emanating from her mother as the two women embraced. "You smell funny. Have you been at the range again?"

"Your dad's parking the car," her mother replied. "And, yes. We just finished our concealed carry class. It was so exhausting!" She took a seat, placing her tote in the empty chair beside her.

"Oh yeah? What did you shoot? Uzi? Bazooka? Grenade launcher?"

"Ha, ha. Very funny," Melanie smirked as she removed her sunglasses, revealing flashing dark eyes that were identical to her daughter's. "No. Your father was thinking of getting a Glock 43, so we rented one today to try it out."

"I have no idea what you just said."

"It's a handgun, dear. It worked for me; but it was a little small for his grip, so he'll probably just get a Glock 26."

"You two are a couple of gun nuts. You and that Rick Ector guy."

"You should come with us sometime. Knowing how to shoot is a necessary skill set. Besides, it's always better to-"

"I know. 'Have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.' I don't like guns."

"You don't have to like them to know how to use them." Michonne jumped in surprise as she felt her father's hands grip her shoulders. Bending to give her a peck on her cheek, he walked around to the empty chair with a wide smile.

"Father!"

"Daughter!"

"Living ancestor."

"Direct descendant."

"Progenitor."

"Bairn."

"Begetter."

"Offspring."

"Genetic forerunner."

"Successor."

"Architect of my creation."

"Enough! You two wear me out," Melanie huffed, annoyed with their incessant wordplay.

"Don't worry, Mom. Dad was done anyway," Michonne grinned.

"I don't think so Miss Thang. I was just taking it easy on you since you seem to be too scared to come play these days." Greg Williams was a member of a Scrabble group; and Michonne had, at one time, been an active participant in their monthly meet- ups. "Did you tell her about the carry permit?" he asked his wife as he picked up his menu.

"She told me," Michonne replied. "I don't want one right now."

"Well, owning a gun for your protection is not a _privilege_ handed down by the government; it's your God- given right, and a big responsibility. Think about it," he cautioned.

"I'll think about it," she assured him.

"We're not trying to be pushy, but-"

"Oh come on. That's what y'all do best." Michonne smirked and then inwardly cringed as she caught sight of her mother's raised eyebrow at her sass.

"My point is, you never know when you're going to be in a dangerous situation. Look at that waitress out in Milwaukee. She was at work, minding her own business, just doing her job."

"I did see that. That was crazy. Dude was getting ready to beat her ass," Michonne said.

"Yes he was. And there was no time to run or call the police. She was extremely lucky she had her weapon, 'cause that could have ended quite badly. He was coming for her. That animal might have killed her."

XOXOXO

Their waitress stopped by their table and they placed their lunch orders. After handing over her menu, Melanie settled back in her seat and turned to Michonne, "How are Sasha and Noah doing?" she asked with a smile.

"They're good. Noah's slacking on taking care of Buster, though, " Michonne replied.

"Maybe he'd have more time if he wasn't so busy texting me hunting memes."

"What did he send you?"

"That fool sent me this one about shooting a turkey in the frozen foods!" Melanie reached into her pocket for her phone and held the image up to Michonne.

Michonne pressed her lips together, holding in a snort of laughter, "C'mon Mom. That's funny!" She often enjoyed how much pleasure her cousin got out of riling up his aunt.

"You should tell his meat- eating behind that not everyone with a gun hunts," Melanie said with pursed lips.

"I think in his mind gun owners are white males who hunt and vote Republican," Michonne said.

"Which I am not; not that there's anything inherently wrong with any of those things."

"I don't know. They're kinda public enemy number one right now," Michonne winced. "Personally, I think Democrats just have better PR and have done a good job of re- writing their own history," she speculated.

"That's very true. I mean, take Jim Crow laws for example. They were enacted by Democrats," Greg said. "You should ask your grandmother about growing up in Mississippi and what her parents went through. It's why they were registered Republicans."

"Dad! Do you have to be so loud?" she exclaimed, glancing about.

"I said Republican, not child molester!"

"Yeah, well..."

"Anyone who doesn't like what I'm saying should bone up on their history. They'll be alright."

XOXOXO

"Does this mean that _you two_ are voting Republican these days?" Michonne asked.

"I'll have you know we're not currently affiliated with any party. What have we always said? 'You vote the candidate, not the party.' While the Republicans are _supposed_ to stand for limited government and the free market, I happen to disagree with them on a couple of key issues. After all, limited government means stay out of my uterus," Melanie determined.

"Besides, incurring the cost of prosecuting and incarcerating people just for smoking pot is fiscally ridiculous," said Greg.

"I love how little regard you have for social programs."

"Don't put words in my mouth, Bernie Junior. I happen to firmly believe that old adage of how when you give a person a fish, you only feed them once versus teaching them to fish, which feeds them for life."

"Wow, Dad! You're getting so much better! We almost made it a full half hour before you said that."

"I'm talking about self- sufficiency." Greg leaned over, pointing his finger, "These democratic socialists promise a lot, but who's going to pay for it? Free healthcare alone would cost thirty trillion dollars. They always claim corporations and the one percent, but that's just where it starts. Before long anyone with a job is paying an eighty percent tax rate. Which leads to people saying 'to hell with working'. History has proven this. Socialism has never worked. Ask the average Venezuelan how they feel about socialism these days."

XOXOXO

"I don't know. When it comes to politics, I just feel it's time we had a female president," Michonne lamented.

"And we will, but voting for Hillary _because_ she was a woman is the same thing as someone else _not_ voting for Obama _because_ he was Black. You vote the candidate. When the _right_ woman comes along, I'll be the first in line," Melanie responded.

"Besides, those criminals have a long history which cannot be overlooked," Greg interjected. "Hell, the Clinton Foundation alone!"

Melanie added, "Also, people want to call Trump a racist but I haven't seen any photos of _him_ kissing all up on KKK Grand Master and former _Democratic_ senator Robert Byrd. A man she called a _mentor_."

"Yeah. That 'Robert Byrd, mentor' business kinda killed it for me too," Michonne reflected.

"Just because she now carries 'hot sauce in her bag', doesn't mean I'm not still pissed about that," Melanie fumed. "'Superpredators', my ass!"

"Wow, I don't know what I'd do if I didn't get my scheduled dose of one of your rants. Takes me back to high school. Remember my Che Guevara phase?"

"Oh, that was just you rebelling," her mother scoffed.

 **XOXOXO**

Their meal arrived, causing them to put their discussion on hold. Due to health issues, Greg had recently begun a gluten free diet, something he was having a particularly difficult time with. As such, her father spent the next thirty minutes attempting to steal croutons out of Michonne's salad using many tactics, including several bouts of 'what's that over there'. His antics were classic Greg and reminded Michonne of her childhood as she and her father had always had a close bond. Her mother had been the more restrictive parent and as she grew older, they experienced the typical mother- daughter conflicts. These conflicts reached a pinnacle when Michonne rejected her parents' proposed plan for her future and instead opted to forge her own path. Her mother was quite vocal in proclaiming this to be a 'waste of her gifts'. The ensuing rift in their relationship lasted several months. But lately, her parents had seemed to become more accepting of her choice, even venturing so far as to occasionally dine at her restaurant.

Once they had finished eating, Greg stepped outside to take a phone call. Melanie wiped her mouth and placed her napkin by her plate. She turned towards her daughter, "And how is the new job going?"

"Really great, Mom. Thank you for asking," Michonne replied, curious about where the conversation was headed.

"Michonne, I know at times it seemed as though your father and I were trying to control you. Like when we wanted you to be a doctor."

"I know that you just wanted the best for me."

"Absolutely. We felt it was important to encourage you to work hard and to educate yourself. To do your research and be informed so that you could make the best decisions for yourself. So you could be truly empowered." She cocked her head to the side, observing the woman her daughter had become, "And you are. We're very proud of you."

"Thanks, Mom," Michonne whispered. She didn't realize how much it meant to hear her mother say those words until she felt herself starting to tear up. She reached for her water glass and took a sip to compose herself.

"Yeah, I remember how thrilled you were when I got 'empowered' and loc'd my hair."

"Michonne, you didn't even tell me you were going to do it. You just chopped off your perm!" They laughed in remembrance of the confrontations they'd once engaged in.

"I never had a problem with natural hair," Melanie mused, stroking one of Michonne's locs between her fingers. "And you're beautiful no matter what," she said as she beamed lovingly at her daughter.

 **XOXOXO**

"Besides, these days there are more important things to worry about than hair."

"What?! What are you saying? What could be more important than hair?" Michonne joked. Her mother smirked at her silliness. "Well, there are things happening in Europe, especially Great Britain. Between the acid attacks and the 'grooming' done by rape gangs, women in Europe are going through hell. Great Britain is less than half the size of Texas and they've had over _seven hundred_ rapes. The government is doing nothing but trying to cover it up. They've sold out their citizens. Just talking about it has been criminalized under hate speech legislation. Imagine if women in England were armed. Instead, the government has gone completely crazy and has now outlawed knives!

"Seeing what happens in some of these countries is part of why we own guns. Nationwide, there are more than twenty thousand gun laws on the books. There's no need for more laws unless you're serving some other agenda. After all, criminals don't follow a single one. But the first thing an out of control government does is disarm the populace. And the damn media is complicit. Over here they focus on the fifteen thousand non- suicide gun deaths that occur yearly. Meanwhile, they say nothing about the _two hundred thousand to three million_ instances of self defense where a gun _protected_ against an act of violence," Melanie ranted.

"Didn't _Politico_ attempt to dispute those numbers back in 2015?", Michonne asked.

"The guys who wrote that article were a couple of investment advisors who also happen to run an anti- gun blog. Not exactly an unbiased point of view."

Greg caught the tail end of his wife's statement as he returned to the table, "The constitutional right to bear arms means no one can just force you to do anything," he inserted. "They have to negotiate with you. And as long as the first and second amendments remain intact, we can't be turned into Europe. Did you know the first instance of gun control in the U.S. started with Black people and slavery?" he noted. "In the Dred Scott Supreme Court case, Justice Roger Taney; a Democrat by the way; warned that one consequence of recognizing Negroes as citizens would be our legal right to own guns, making us a danger to society."

"-We can't have slaves owning guns!" Melanie interjected.

"Not then and definitely not now. Gun control or 'people control', as I like to call it, is just another tool. It's part of a globalist agenda to divide and conquer. The real power brokers like George Soros and the people he represents move us around like chess pieces on a board. Racism, sexism, and gender issues are just triggers used by certain people to distract all of us."

"Well Dad, if we can ever get back on track, what would we focus on?"

"Economics, honey! The federal reserve still has us all in check; and breaking away from it and establishing a true free market is the only way to long- term prosperity for all of us," Greg replied.

"You've been reading Thomas Sowell again."

"Hey, the man's a genius."

"I think people of my generation are trying to work toward some sort of utopia, but they don't really have a clear idea of what that looks like or how to achieve it," Michonne theorized.

"They're focusing on superficial problems instead of facing the truth. Accepting the reality of human nature means acknowledging the presence of evil. And staying vigilant against it," Greg stressed. "When you hand over control, you give up your power. There are no guarantees in this life. There are no 'safe spaces'. _You_ are responsible for you. Not the government."

"I do love when we have these little discussions. Even if we don't always agree."

"There's no reason why civilized, well socialized people shouldn't be able to have a discussion; and then _hopefully_ agree to disagree. It's called free speech."

XOXOXO

While they were waiting for the check, Greg decided to go to the restroom. Sensing their need to reconnect, his intentions had been to give his wife and daughter plenty of privacy. It appeared as though they were back on track. Michonne watched him leave, recalling something she meant to bring up. "By the way, has Dad picked up any new movies lately? Have y'all seen _Black Panther_ yet?"

"Not yet, but he keeps talking about it. That and Dinesh D Souza's latest."

"Well, y'all should check it out. I have a feeling you'd like it. All Black cast, including your girl Angela, in a movie about a sovereign Black nation..."

"Hmm...no white saviour narrative, no victimhood?"

"Nope, true empowerment message. How sweet would it be if Wakanda were real?"

"It would be beautiful, but that's fantasy. Truth be told, America has its problems, but it's still the best country in the world. Especially for Black women."

"I'm sure many Black women would disagree."

"They're not seeing the big picture. There's a reason millions of people want to come to America. After all, if not here, where?"

 **XOXOXO**

As Melanie signed the bill for lunch, Michonne heard her phone ping from within her purse, signaling an incoming text. After reading it, she bit her lip and squirmed in her seat trying to contain her mirth at another scandalous message from Rick. Her mother glanced over and grew interested at her daughter's twitchy demeanor. "Who did you say that text was from?" she pried.

Michonne, knowing she was caught, tried to deflect, "I didn't?"

Melanie looked pointedly at Michonne, determined to wait her out.

"Mother..."

"Michonne..."

Michonne scrolled through her photos with a sigh, finding the one of Rick that had been taken and forwarded by Sasha the night he drove her home. She handed it to her mother silently and waited for the expected follow up.

"Hmm..." Melanie mused, with a slight smirk. She was curious about the handsome young man with the 'deer in headlights' expression.

"What?"

"Nothing. He's very attractive. Nice lips."

"Mom, please!"

"What?! I didn't say anything!"

"You and Sasha...I swear.."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied. "I do know that it's been awhile since you've shared any dating info."

"I've been too busy to date," Michonne explained. "Really?" said Melanie, peering down at the phone in her hand before handing it back to Michonne. "So what makes him different?"

"I don't know...he challenges me, I guess."

"Hmm...that's a very dominant trait."

"What does _that_ mean?"

"It means he's not scared of you. A man that will call you out is someone who's not afraid to let you know where he stands as a man. It also shows that he respects you as a woman."

"You lost me."

"Well... some men, for example, will try to accommodate you by agreeing with everything you say in the hopes that you'll let down your guard and give up the goods. Apparently, he's not like that."

"How do you know? You haven't even met him."

"I know you. You don't suffer fools and the fact that he's still hanging in there speaks volumes."

Michonne scrunched her brow, pondering her mother's words. She smiled in recollection, "Remember when y'all gave me 'the talk'? Dad was all- 'Your womanhood is like a Lamborghini '."

"Oh my goodness! Your father and his car analogies!"

" 'Not every sixteen year old fool with a license should get to drive it. They gon' ding the doors, run over curbs, spill shit all over the seats, and put cheap gas in it. Next thing you know, you got yourself a raggedy ass hoopdi!' " The two women cackled at Greg Williams' flair for language.

"Sooo...?" Melanie prodded, pointing her finger at Michonne's phone.

"Sooo...he seems like a pretty experienced driver."

"Can he handle the horsepower?!"

"I think he can handle the horsepower!"

 **XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

 ***AUTHOR'S NOTE**

I am a Black, female veteran and registered gun owner. I believe in the ultimate form of female empowerment, the constitutional right to protect oneself from bodily harm using deadly force if necessary.

I do not advocate violence and offer my deepest condolences to anyone directly affected by it.

 **(YouTube- 'Man punches restaurant worker'/ George Webb restaurant, Milwaukee)**


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